Minor Scratches
by StarkBlack
Summary: Urahara/Ishida Ishida is hurt and is too stubborn to ask for help. Urahara knocks some sense into him. Warnings: Just some suggestive boyxboy XD


This is a short I did for a friend's twenty-second birthday. Hope you enjoy! XD

**Minor Scratches**

Ishida sat quietly on the steps outside Urahara's shop. He listened to the breeze at it sang a soft melody of the coming winter through naked sakura branches. He felt the chill of the air prickling against his cheeks and shrunk farther into his coat. The dark blue wool brushed against his freezing skin.

His hand ached.

The bandage that covered his left palm, around the thumb and partially down his wrist, had been clumsily applied by his trembling right hand. He had done it quickly before anyone could see; before anyone noticed the blood dripping from his fingertips. He was tired of other people bandaging him. He was tired of people asking if he was alright. It was just a minor scratch, damnit, nothing to be fussed over. No need to cause an upheaval like the orange-haired moron inside.

Kurosaki made sure _eve__ryone and their dead mother_ knew when _he_ got hurt. He acted all cool and furrowed his brow the way _he knew_ everyone found attractive and would tell Orihime it was fine, look, it's nothing. Oh the blood? Don't worry about it, I'm good.

Fucking idiot.

If Ishida did that- came back from fighting hollows, ragged and bloody, telling everyone he was fine- don't worry about it, Orihime would have a conniption fit. It wasn't fair. He didn't need to be babied… he didn't need anyone to care about him…

"Ishida-kun?" a soft, musical voice said from the doorway.

Ishida tensed and pulled his injured hand into his coat. "Yes, Urahara-san?" he fought the apprehension that tried to force its way through his words. Of all the people to see him like this, it had to be _him_. The one person in the whole world he _did not_ want to see him like this. The one person he _couldn't stand_ to see him as weak.

"Are you alright?" the shopkeeper asked. "Do you need something to eat before you go back out?"

Ishida shook his head. "I'm fine, Urahara-san. Thank you."

Ishida waited for the sound of the shoji sliding shut or the gentle hum of Urahara's reiatsu to fade. He waited patiently for the older man to leave as an ache in his heart grew to match the ache in his throbbing hand. _Why the hell __was he still standing there_

"Ishida-kun…" Urahara said carefully. "Are you sure you don't want-"

"I said I'm _fine_, Urahara-san." Ishida said between his teeth. "Pardon my rudeness but please leave me alone."

Ishida startled as green and blonde flashed in front of his eyes and his injured hand was pulled from his coat. Urahara crouched before him, holding his left wrist in a firm grip and smiling that slightly crazy, _completely__ infuriating_ know-it-all smile.

"This is fine?" the shopkeeper asked. Ishida grimaced at the humor laced in the older man's voice.

"Yes." Ishida glared. "It's just a minor scratch."

Urahara lowered the Quincy's hand and turned it palm up. Ishida looked away and clenched his jaw.

"You've completely soaked through your bandage," Urahara said softly. "This is going to interfere with your ability to draw your spirit arrows."

"No it won't," Ishida said quietly, already the fight was leaving him. What use was it to argue with Urahara? "I've experience much worse…"

Gentle, calloused fingers grazed the skin of Ishida's jaw and the Quincy froze. He let his head be turned back to face the concerned eyes of the blonde shinigami. His heart sped up as the shopkeeper 's thumb drew soft circles on the pale flesh of his cheek.

"Ishida… there is a point when stubbornness crosses the line into stupidity. No one is going to think less of you if you sometimes ask for help."

Urahara's soft caresses were making Ishida light headed. Who knew a simple touch to the cheek could have someone feeling like their insides were i on fire /i ? Gods, his chest was so tight!

"Ishida-kun?"

Ishida's eyes snapped open. Oh gods, what was he _doing_? He had leaned into Urahara's touch and closed his eyes and- oh fucking hell- _had he been purring???_

He pulled back and tried to free his hand from Urahara's grasp. He felt his face flushing obscenely as he tugged. Oh gods, it was too embarrassing! And Urahara was smiling, oh so suggestively at him!

Wait… smiling… smiling very… sexily? Was that even a real word?

Ishida watched with shocked fascination as Urahara shifted his grip on his injured limb. His fingers slipped between the Quincy's and brought the bandaged skin to his lips. The older man kissed the back of his hand- just a brush of lips against reddened gauze. All the while his grey-blue eyes locked on Ishida's blue.

"I'll heal it if you want," the older man whispered and Ishida shivered as his breath warmed the fabric of the bandage. "No one else has to know."

Ishida swallowed but slowly nodded.

"Promise you'll come to me when you're hurt? No more hiding in your stubbornness and pride?"

Ishida nodded again, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

Urahara smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth, and stood. He tenderly pulled Ishida to his feet and led him into the shop. Ishida let himself be pulled along, all the while wondering what exactly he had just agreed to and thinking absently about breath against his skin and calloused fingers running down his flesh.

"Urahara-san," Ishida asked. "How are your healing kidos? I've never seen you use one…"

Urahara chuckled. "They're a little rusty… this may take a few hours."

Ishida held back a grin.

**END **


End file.
